


Insomnia

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Books, Demons, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-01
Updated: 2005-07-01
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crowley can't sleep. This means no one else should either.





	Insomnia

Crowley brushed his teeth, shot himself a sharp smile in the mirror, and hopped between his cool, clean, fresh smelling sheets. Sleep was a pleasure, and as such deserved his utmost attention. He sighed, stretched, closed his eyes and --

\-- three hours later was still irritably awake, staring at his ceiling. He could see it perfectly well, which annoyed him even more. He could _not_ get his mind to settle down enough to sleep.

He thought about the TV programme he had watched earlier. (Would Rose have to choose between the Doctor and Captain Jack?)

He thought about his quarterly returns. (Would anyone in the office believe his carefully inflated figures?)

He thought about his clothes. (Would doublets ever come back into style?)

He decided to have a warm drink of milk. One materialised obligingly in his hand. It was horrible. He decided to count sheep. After he got to a hundred thousand, he swore off ever wearing wool again. He thought about doing a little light exercise, but decided that he really wasn't _that_ desperate. Finally, he flung himself out of bed, thought himself dressed in a casual, yet expensive-looking sweater and slacks - it wouldn't do to look like insomnia was making him _sloppy_ , after all - and decided that what he really wanted to do was complain to an audience. Luckily, he knew someone who'd be awake.

An hour and a half later, Aziraphale interrupted his tirade wearily.

"So, the long and the short of it is _you_ can't sleep, so you don't see why anyone else should get some rest?"

"You don't sleep," Crowley said. "What do you care?"

"I have books to read!" Aziraphale said. "This is my _time off_ , dear boy. Maybe a nice book would help you relax?"

Crowley shuddered. "No, thanks. But _can_ you do anything? I just want to shut my blessed eyes and find it's morning when I open them again."

"I _might_ be able to help you," Aziraphale said. "I can't deny it would be nice to get a bit of peace and quiet."

"Oh, charming. Is that what you say to humans who come looking for help, too?"

Aziraphale gave him a vague and cheerful smile. "Sit down, dear," he said, indicating his ratty old sofa. "And close your eyes."

Crowley sat, and listened to the angel puttering round behind him. "Hurry up," he said. "Honestly, why are you so bloody _slow_ at everything? Here I am in my hour of need, and you just wander round like you've all the time in the world. The night isn't going to last forever, you kn--"

Aziraphale hit him across the back of the head with the heaviest of the books he'd been examining. Crowley keeled over sideways onto the sofa, and Aziraphale carefully lifted his feet up so he was curled neatly on his side. The dusty pink throw from one of the armchairs was quickly spread over the unconscious demon. All in all, he really did look like he was asleep rather than comatose.

"Sweet dreams," Aziraphale said cheerfully, and got back to his reading at last.


End file.
